For months afterward, Laina wouldn’t talk to anyone except Jarod. She slept all the time, and her grades slipped from A-plusses to A-minuses. But when she finally snapped out of it, her perfectionism kicked into high gear.
Two years ago, she never would have told mom about my occasional vacations from biology, but now she’s constantly looking over my shoulder, trying to turn me into a clone of herself. Ironically, the more Laina tries to make everything fit into her idea of perfection, the sloppier she gets in private. You can barely see her bedroom floor anymore, through all the piles of clothes and stacks of books.
She’s acting like the sky is falling all over again, but this time she’s even avoiding Jarod. And I don’t even want to think about the militant perfectionist she’ll become when she gets over it this time.
Jarod calls almost every day, and Laina refuses to talk to him, which means I have to. I keep waiting for him to mention the kiss, but he doesn’t. And I’m not about to bring it up.
Laina used to tell me everything, before she got all weird last year, and I keep hoping she’ll snap out of this and talk to me like she used to, but by Saturday night, I’m tired of waiting.
I barge into Laina’s room while she’s getting dressed for the winter band concert. “I can’t find my white shirt,” I say. “Did you borrow it?”
Laina would never borrow my shirt. There’s no way she could squeeze her DD-cups into a shirt that hugs my barely-there curves. But she isn’t really listening to me anyway, so it doesn’t matter what I say.
“No, I haven’t seen your shoes. Do you want to borrow mine?”
“Not my shoes. I’m wearing my shoes, see?”
“Oh, good, you found them.” She pulls her hair up into the tight bun we’re required to wear for concerts.
I step fully into her room and close the door behind me. “I said I can’t find my shirt. Can I look for it in your closet?” I reach into her closet and grab the shirt I’d planted there before dinner. “Oh, here it is.” I pull off my t-shirt and slip on the frilly, white, tuxedo-style shirt. “As long as I’m in here, we should just get ready together.”
Laina dumps her purse out on her bed and paws through the contents. “Have you seen my purple sparkly pen? The one I use when I write in my diary? I could have sworn I put it in my purse, but it’s missing.” She eyes me suspiciously. “You didn’t take it, did you?”
“No, I don’t have your pen.” I glance around her messy room. “It’s probably buried in one of these piles of clothes or books. Do you want me to help you organize things so you can find it? It’ll take us twenty minutes. Thirty tops. And it will give us time to talk.”
Maybe she can explain to me why the chronic neat freak has turned into a total slob.
Laina freezes, all the color draining from her face and her eyes widening in a classic deer-in-the-headlights look. She takes a deep breath, gives me a totally fake, forced smile, and shakes her head. “No, it’s not really important anyway.” She scoops the mess of pencils and crumpled papers, empty gum wrappers and breath mints back into her purse. Then she stares at it as if waiting for her favorite pen to speak to her.
“So anything new and exciting in your world lately?” I ask again.
Laina picks up her flute. “I’m sorry,” she says, refusing to meet my eyes. “I want to get to school a little bit early so I can warm up and go over my solo one last time with Ms. Harmony. Can you get a ride with Mom and Dad?” She nods as if she’s given me time to actually respond. “Good. Thanks! I’ll see you in a bit, then.”
She rushes through the door and out to her car before I even have time to remind her that Dad has his monthly schmooze-with-the-boss dinner tonight, and Mom and Dad aren’t even coming to this concert. I pick up the phone and take a deep breath as I start punching in numbers. I hope Summer doesn’t mind giving me a ride.
I watch Laina throughout the concert, as she nervously stares at a particular spot in the third row of seats. Shane Crawford is watching her with the same intensity that I usually watch Jarod. And every time she glances at Shane, Laina misses notes and flubs her rhythms. She’s wearing an I-totally-screwed-up look, but I’m positive it has nothing to do with the notes she’s missing onstage, and everything to do with the way Shane’s staring at her.
When my first long rest comes up, I lay my clarinet across my lap and casually brush the hair away from my eyes, surreptitiously stealing a glance at Jarod in the percussion section. I don’t think he can see Shane from his position behind the drums at the back of the stage. Good. The last thing I need is to send Jarod into over-protective, jealous quasi-boyfriend mode again.
As soon as the concert is over, I race to the band room and throw my clarinet into its case. I’m already back to the auditorium and elbowing my way through the crowd to the third row before Laina leaves the stage.
Shane is so absorbed in watching my sister carefully stack her music together that he doesn’t see me approaching. I drag him by the elbow through the side door to the empty back parking lot, where we can talk undisturbed, carefully propping the door open a crack so that we won’t be locked outside.
“What’s up with you and Laina?”
“Why? What did she say?”
I roll my eyes. “She hasn’t said anything. But Laina has never missed a note outside of private practice in her life. Not until tonight. What did you do to my sister?”
Shane shuffles his feet and shoves his hands into his pockets, refusing to meet my eyes. “I only want to talk. To set things right.” He pulls a purple, sparkly pen out of his pocket and studies it. “I thought if I could just …”
“Hey!” I snatch the pen out of his hands. “Laina was totally searching for this.”
He blushes. “She dropped it after chemistry.”
“Okay, first of all, you’re an idiot,” I say. “If you want to apologize for whatever creeptastic thing you did, stealing Laina’s pen and then giving it back to her isn’t going to cut it.” I shove the pen into my coat pocket.
Shane frowns. “But I need to explain.”
“Well, whatever it is, I think you need to find a better way. Stalking her at a band concert and messing up her concentration isn’t gonna work.” I walk back to the auditorium door and yank it open. “Go home. And do yourself a favor. Wait until you have a better plan before you try again.” I step into the crowded auditorium, pulling the door tightly closed behind me.
***
I manage to catch Laina before she can leave, so I don’t have to find a ride home, but she’s so quiet I might as well be in the car alone.
And when we get back to the house, Jarod is already waiting on our front porch for Laina and their annual post-winter-concert ice cream sundae tradition. She won’t open up to me when Jarod’s hanging around.
Especially not when Shane’s the problem.
I smile and say hi, but Jarod’s completely focused on Laina and doesn’t even look at me. I storm into the house, to show that I don’t care what, or even if, they think of me, but since neither of them appears to notice when I stalk off down the hall to my bedroom, the victory is kind of a hollow one.
I change out of my concert uniform, which looks good on absolutely no one, except maybe Jarod, and I slip into my favorite faded blue jeans that are torn in all of the right places and just happen to make my butt look amazing. I add a tight, turquoise tank top that totally brings out the color of my eyes and top it off with the old Guns N’ Roses t-shirt.
Last Saturday, after the clothes were distributed to the various shelters, I spent the entire evening redesigning the shirt. I shortened the hem, slashed the remaining sleeve and widened the neckline. The result was a t-shirt that shows enough skin to make guys drool, without crossing the slut line.
The outfit is sexy enough to get any red-blooded American boy’s heart pumping, but it will mean a little bit more to Jarod. There’s no way he’ll be able to see me in this t-shirt without imagining that ripped nightgown.
I do a quic
k touch-up on my makeup and pull my hair out of its concert bun, carefully arranging my dark brown curls to frame my face. Then, I take a deep breath and adopt my best “casually innocent” attitude before I saunter back to the kitchen.
“Great concert, guys! We rocked it!” I skip into the room and casually brush one finger along the back of Jarod’s neck as I pass the table. He shivers at my touch and glances up at me. His jaw drops when he notices my outfit, but I pretend not to notice.
I fill the kettle with water, and then I set it on the stove to boil before I grab a package of Oreos from the cupboard and pull a chair up to the table between Jarod and Laina. “I don’t see how you can eat ice cream when it’s, like, fifteen degrees outside. What’s wrong with you two?” I shiver and my knee “accidentally” brushes against Jarod’s leg. I feel his body stiffen next to me, and I bite my lower lip to stifle a smile. “Don’t you guys know ice cream makes you colder?”
Laina laughs and reaches across the table to squeeze Jarod’s hand. “We always do this,” she says. “It’s tradition.”
“Do you remember,” Jarod asks, carefully avoiding my eyes, “when we were freshmen?” They launch into a story all about how they thought the juniors and seniors were going to the Dairy Shack for ice cream after their first concert, so they came back to our house to make ice cream sundaes. They thought they could tell everyone that they went out for ice cream and pretend they were a part of the cool kids, but then it turned out that everyone was really going out for brownies and hot cocoa instead.
The kettle whistles and I jump up to make my hot cocoa. I take a careful sip and return to my seat between them. “Really?” I ask. “You guys eat ice cream when it’s freezing out because you were stupid when you were freshmen?” I lift my steaming mug and stare at Jarod over the cup as I take a sip. “I think I’d at least put a warm brownie with the ice cream.”
“Oh, we have brownies and hot cocoa every year after the spring concert,” Laina says. She’s barely paying attention, and totally oblivious to the real conversation taking place right in front of her.
I pull my chair closer to Jarod, close enough that our legs are touching, and I eat the last bite of ice cream out of his dish. I lick my lips slowly, and then casually dunk an Oreo in my cocoa. “So the brownies and the ice cream are both because of Laina?”
Jarod squirms in his seat and glances at my sister, but she’s a million miles away, absently rubbing at a sticky spot on the table with that vacant look on her face.
“It’s just our thing,” he says. “Because we’re friends.”
I give him a you-must-think-I’m-a-freaking-idiot smile and trace a figure eight with my index finger on his leg. He reaches under the table to grab my hand and looks at me with thinly veiled terror. I laugh and cock my head to one side, as if I’m only making casual conversation. “So, you would never, ever, for instance, eat brownies and ice cream together because Laina wouldn’t approve?”
He blinks, and every trace of color drains from his face. His eyes plead with me to stop, and he squeezes my hand. But if he didn’t want me to say anything in front of Laina, he shouldn’t have avoided me all week.
“Or would the brownies and ice cream combination be a dangerous declaration that you wanted something way more than friendship?”
Jarod gulps and looks at Laina, who is still tracing hearts with her finger on the table. She nods absently.
“That’s silly,” he says. “It’s a dessert. No symbols. No hidden meanings.” He drops my hand and slides his chair away from me.
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, folding my arms across my chest. “So when you eat them separately, the brownies and the ice cream are symbols of your enduring friendship. But when you eat them together, they mean nothing?”
“Sometimes a dessert is just a dessert,” Jarod says.
I twist open an Oreo and slowly lick the cream filling. “What about kisses?” I ask. “Do those mean anything?”
Laina looks up with a start. “What?”
Jarod coughs and rakes his fingers through his hair. “Oh, we’re talking about our favorite candies. I was thinking about the way something can be really good, but it’s not always the best thing for you. Sometimes, you have to know when to walk away. And leave. It. Alone.”
He reaches across the table and pats my arm, then turns his full attention to Laina, transitioning into a discussion of college plans and other unimportant nonsense.
I’ve been dismissed.
I fake a giggle. “You’re totally right,” I say. “Sometimes, the bitter aftertaste is so repulsive that it’s totally not worth it.” I lock eyes with Jarod, determined not to let him see my pain. “Especially when the candy wasn’t even any good in the first place.”
Laina laughs. “Andi, you’re such a junk food junkie. I can’t imagine that you’ve ever tasted a candy you didn’t like.”
“She’s got a point, you know.” Jarod grins and traces the slashed sleeve of my t-shirt. He totally knows I picked this outfit for him. And he’s laughing at me.
I suddenly want to hurt him, and I know exactly where to hit the hardest.
“Oh! I almost forgot!” I jump up and run to my bedroom. Laina’s pen is still tucked safely away in my coat pocket. I wipe the tears from my eyes before they can escape and trail mascara down my cheeks, and then reapply my carefree attitude, before skipping back to the kitchen with a grin and a totally realistic giggle.
“Here, Laina,” I say. “That Shane kid found me after the concert. He wanted you, but he had to go, so he asked me to give this to you, since you were taking forever to put away your flute.” I roll my eyes and flip my hair. “He said you dropped it after class.”
I giggle again and lock eyes with Jarod. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself to be cool and unruffled, not giggly and imbecilic. “How dumb does he think we are, right? Like anyone would ever sit through a boring high school band concert to return a pen.” I widen my eyes innocently, and gasp as if I’m suddenly realizing the truth. “He took the pen when you weren’t looking, so he’d have an excuse to come talk to you when he brought it back! Oh, my gondola, Laina! That’s so sweet. He was so disappointed when he didn’t see you after the concert.” I sigh dramatically and clasp my hands over my heart. “How adorable is it that he would go through all that to spend a few minutes alone with you? He totally wants you.”
Laina’s knuckles go white as she clutches the pen. She bites her lip and tips her head forward so that her long, blonde hair falls in front of her eyes. Usually, she jumps at any hint that Shane might be interested in her, so I’m not expecting the panicked terror I catch in her expression. I immediately feel guilty for making her think about whatever Shane did to her, but there’s no turning back now.
I lock eyes with Jarod. “I’d totally fall for a guy like that. One who isn’t scared of his feelings.”
Jarod frowns and looks out the window at the gently falling snow. “Wow, the storm is really getting bad out there. I guess I’d better go before the roads aren’t safe.”
“Are you kidding?” Laina asks. “It’s barely even snowing. You drive in worse than this all the time.”
“Yeah, but I promised my mom I’d stop and get some milk on the way home, and things might get really bad if I stay.” He hugs Laina and glares at me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He scurries outside, and I pop another Oreo into my mouth. It tastes like sawdust, but I force myself to swallow it with a smile. “What’s his problem?” I think of the terrified look in Jarod’s eyes when he realized that I could ruin his chances with Laina if I wanted to. The confidence and power I expected to feel sits mangled in my gut, buried under an avalanche of guilt. This wasn’t the way I wanted to get his attention.
Laina frowns and waves her pen. “You couldn’t wait to give this to me until after he left? You know how much he hates Shane.”
“I thought you’d be happy. It seemed so important before the concert.” I pop another Oreo into my mouth. Lai
na stares at the pen with a glassy, far-off expression, and I have to turn away. I intercepted Shane at the concert so he wouldn’t hurt my sister again, but I hurt her worse than he could have. At least Laina knew she needed to be cautious with Shane. My attack came out of nowhere.
I shove the package of cookies behind a box of cereal in the pantry and take a deep breath. It’s not my fault. If Jarod hadn’t tried to ignore me all week, I never would have lashed out at him. And Laina doesn’t need to be so sensitive.
“It’s just a pen,” I say, and saunter out of the room without waiting for her reply.
Laina’s practicing her flute, playing the same passage of music over and over again until it’s absolutely flawless. I shouldn’t be surprised. Miss Perfect always stresses about the next performance, even when we have practically forever to get ready, and after messing up at the concert last weekend, she thinks the whole school is laughing at her. But this level of obsessive rehearsal is intense, even for her. I have to hum along a half-note off-key for a full minute before she finally gives up and puts her flute away.
“Okay,” I say. “Time ran out on your pity party more than a week ago. You need to build a bridge and get over it already.”
She slides her chair and music stand into the corner and flops across her bed. She stares at the ceiling without saying a word, probably hoping I’ll give up if she doesn’t respond. But this poor me attitude is getting ridiculous.
“So, you want to tell me what that Shane guy did?” I put on my best sympathetic sister smile, determined not to roll my eyes or laugh if it turns out to be something silly like the time Anthony Matthews said he liked her new shirt, and she burst into tears right in the middle of band practice.
Laina crumples into a sobbing mess and collapses into her pillows. I sit down beside her and pat her back. I’m tempted to suggest that she cut back on the melodrama, but she’s been super-sensitive for months, and I’m starting to wonder if Shane is just the tip of the iceberg.
Twleve Steps Page 5
